Queen of Diamonds, King of Spades
by D.M.P
Summary: A card reading and a destined meeting between mother and son.


Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, therefore I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

Timeline: At the beginning of PoA.

QUEEN OF DIAMONDS

______________________

KING OF SPADES

by D.M.P.

Time for the daily reading. She was prepared. Got that cup of coffee - two sugars, one creme - and the candle - white, because white stood for truth and purity, and probity was what she was aiming for today. A flick of the matches, and there it goes. A small flame twinkling in the darkness. Little bit more light created in the world.

Madeline smiled to herself and sat back in her chair. Out of the circle of light, the shelves lay in the shadows. The room was a small, walk-in pantry, lined with shalves and hooks. In the dim light, items from the shelf became only so small black boxes and shady packages. On the shelf closest to the light, draped a bag of knitting. The needles dangled out of the bag, only held back by weathered strandsl of yellow yarn. Next to it was a bag of Ferdinand's All-Purpose Magical Flour. Not only can the mixture be used for cooking, but can get those nasty stains out of clothing, make the windows shine, keep bad odors away, and even make a decent foundation if you were looking for that porcelian doll look. 

Ah yes, Madeline knew her pantry like the back of her wand. She could detail the exact placement and purpose for ever object here. A housekeeper all her life, she made this place into her stockpile for all odds and ends. From broken broomsticks (mounted by the right wall) to beaten bagpipes (far left corner, a gift from her brother-in-law from Scotland, never used), she had almost everything under the sun here. Some people would call her a pack rat for this, but Madeline never _intentionally_ got all these things to stow away; she just tended to leave random items in the pantry.

Come to think about it, Madeline wasn't a very good housekeeper at all.

Yet if she was good at anything, it was cartomancy.

Taking out her deck of cards, she shuffled them in her hands, doing those types of shuffling moves that card sharks do in the movies before they con the guy out of all their quid. Working her hands, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed. You were suppose to relax while shuffling the deck; it was called "centering yourself."

_Ffffff-lip! Ffffff-lip!_ How satisfying was the steady sounds of the cards to her ears. How reassuring the was constant motion as they were passed from hand to hand.

While she centered herself, Madeline heard a knock on the door.

"What is it?" she asked in a distracted voice.

"I'm heading out to the doctor's," was the reply. "Just wanted to let you know."

Madeline put the cards down at opened the door. "When will you be back, Josh?" she said, pecking her husband on the lips. 

"Only a check-up," Joshua replied. "Not too long." He gave a quick return kiss and headed out the door, taking the car keys off the kitchen table as he went.

"And make sure you get Dr. Webber to look at your knee," she added hurriedly. Last two appointments he forgot, and the week before he really began complaining about that cursed knee of his.

"I will," he called over his shoulder.

"And ask about the dragon scale perscription for your arthritis."

"I will, Maddy."

"And don't forget-"

The door closed before she could finish. Madeline rolled her eyes. "Might as well call the Neomancer's Pharmacy later if he forgets to ask about his vitamins," she muttered and added that to her mental checklist. Slipping back inside, she closed the door, returning to her own little world.

Taking the cards in her hand, she continued shuffling. It was tossed about and moved so fast that only a white and red blur was seen. Over fourty years she had done this - might as well develop some sort of mastery.

Divination always interested her, and she practiced it as a causal hobby in the comforts of her pantry. She could read palms too, if she wanted to, or tea leaves. A crystal ball was somewhere in the room, along with dozens of star charts. Fire signs were used during the winter; it helped save on the heating. 

Madeline had a very fanciful imagination, which only cultivated her beliefs. She was a bit of a dramatist at heart also. For instance, she had always been depressed over the fact that her name was _Madeline_. Just Madeline. How dreadfully plain and unromantic! To make up for that, she named her children with the most archanic, yet imaginative names possible. Like Calphurnia for her daughter. She had a son also, which she named after a star.

The deck she was using was not tarot, but a regular set of dog-earred playing cards, the fifty-two with four usual suits. Sure, she knew how to use tarot cards, but she taught herself to read playing cards years ago when she was only a child. Tarot came later, but she always felt more comfortable using this worn-out deck. 

As a restful peace settled over her, she mulled over a certain concern that had been plaguing her of late. It was about her son, estranged from her for over a decade. Should she use these cards to judge upon that? Wouldn't hurt to see.

_Fffffffff-lip! Fffffff-lip!_

With a sudden turn of her hand, she halted the speeding deck. Laying it out on the table, she cut the deck three times, then laid out four cards: the first vertical, the second horizontal over that, the third to the left side of the crossed cards, and the four card placed on the right side. This was called the Small Star spread, which was the spread that she used most often.

Taking out her reading glasses from her apron pocket, Madeline put them on and squinted down at the arrangement. Three of the cards were spade and the fourth seven of hearts. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she stared down at them. 

"How peculiar..." she murmured.

***

This was absolute suicide. Sirius was going to get caught; he just knew it. To be in a village barely a week after his escape?? Everyone was on the lookout for him, Muggle and wizard alike. Reports about his murderous reputation aired on the television and were in the _London Times_. Patrol cars cruised the streets, with the officers peering about, stopping by public places, interviewing poeple around the area he was last seen. The _Daily Prophet_ held reports about the Ministry's search, and owls could practically be seen at all hours, heading in the direction of their headquarters. What were those letters? Spottings around England? Leads to his capture? And here he was, smack in the middle of a residential neighborhood!

But surely no one could suspect him now in his dog form. Oh no, this wasn't a convicted murderer; it was only a stray in need of a few good scraps!

This stray stood among the bushes down the street, watching an old house on a hill. A small place, with a picket fence those paint was peeling off and a sinking front porch. Fall was just approaching, and the lawn was a mess of dirt and dead grass. The house almost seemed to slouch, as if it was exhausted after standing up for over thirty-five years.

He felt almost mournful as he stared at the sad sight. The lawn used to be greener, he thought, and the house always looked in good repair. Was it abandoned now, the residents long dead? Or perhaps moved away? 

The front door opened. Sirius watched from afar as a man left the house. Who was that? Leaning further in the bushes, he squinted his eyes to see better. He felt his heart quicken with recognition. It was him! After all these years, he was still here!

If he was still alive, what about Mum? Was she still...? Oh, she had to be around! And what of Cal? She was only twenty-eight when he last saw her, an intern at some business company. She would be in her early fourties, right? Of course she wouldn't be living here, though.... Yet where did she go? 

Yet all these questions came with a flood of relief from Sirius. He saw his father. After so long, his was still alive at least. Thank God.

He felt his heart quicken as he watched the old man open the garage with a wave of his wand. Creaking loudly, the door opened. Sirius turned his attention to the poor vehicle. Was it really? Yes, yes it was! The same car, the same old, beat-up Chevy! Could that thing _still_ be working? Why, Sirius recalled that piece of scrap metal on wheels being the family car all his childhood. How could that junk bucket continue to work? Must be magical repairs, he decided.

Joshua stepped into the garage. He was wearing long dark-blue robes, which complimented the color of his eyes. Steel gray hair covered his head; he was far from balding yet. But he walked in a half-limp, taking slow, measured steps. Did he have arthtitis? Back problems? Sirius didn't know and wished in all the world he knew what was wrong with this man's health.

The distance between his hiding place and the house was about twenty-five meters, and Sirius couldn't see the details of his father's face. But if he only could! How did the man age? Was his face furrowed and covered with age spots? Or did he retain that youthful quality that some elderly maintained, keeping their smooth complexion even years after their prime? 

Just to walk up to him, to say who he was, to hear the old man's response! Did Dad's voice grow more tired with the passing years? Sirius always remembered that his voice was deep and very reassuring. However, he couldn't remember the sound of it.

If only he could hear the sound of his father's voice again.... 

But he dared not reveal himself to him. The wizard world still thought him to be a murderer and an ally to Voldemort. Even though he had been innocent, Sirius had no proof to present to anyone, even to his family, of this. And so, Joshua must believe his son to be a killer.

This very moment, like many times before, Sirius cursed Peter Pettigrew. All because of him, Sirius could only see his family like this. As a mangy mutt on the sidewalk. 

_Damn you, Peter,_ Sirius thought bitterly. _Damn you for taking away my family._

***

Two of spades, a King of Spades, a six of spades and the seven of hearts. Laid down in that exact order, with the King crossed over the two and the other cards on either side. 

Madeline pursed her lips together in thought. Spades were the most negative of all the four suits. Yet the heart was the most positive. What did that mean? Well, she'd better read it one at a time, then.

The two of spades represented herself. Well, not her personality, but how she felt. Her persona was represented by the Queen of Diamonds: dark brown hair (now streaked with white), hazel-blue eyes, angular face, and a long nose. Unique, interesting, and quite money-oriented, but sometimes a bit scatter-brained. 

At the moment, however, she was under the state of the spade of two: wistful, regretful, and sad. Her past was a dismal six of spades, filled with depression and grief. Madeline knew that it was because of her son. He was the King of Spades, the card that crossed over hers. The King of Spades was a dark card, usually symbolizing a morally evil character. She had never believed Sirius to be a King of Spades, but who could doubt the cards? Especially after he murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

His crime was something that always confused Madeline. The boy she raised would never hurt anyone. He was always outgoing and slightly mischevious, but he never did anything _bad_. Sirius was trickster in his youth, playing little jokes around the house all the time. Not the practical jokester, but an odd one. 

For instance, one time Sirius unscrewed all the light bulbs from their sockets during the Christmas break and hid them all in the bathroom closet. Joshua nearly went mad trying to figure out why any of the lights wouldn't work. The man spent nearly ten minutes flipping switches on and off, then went to check the fuse box to see if any shortages were going on, and afterwards, tried some spells on the lights to fix any broken bulbs. It took half an hour before he actually lifted the cover off the lamps and ceiling lights to see that the bulbs weren't even there. Sirius was in his room the whole time, acting purely innocent while doing Muggle Studies homework by the light of his wand.

The reason for this trick? Because in school Sirius learned that only Muggles depended on electricity and he wanted to test the theory out.

Very strange, but somehow amusing at the same time. He could always make his parents laugh, and so never got in trouble for the peccadilloes he commited. So how could someone like Sirius turn out to be a killer?

Was it her fault that Sirius became the person he was? After all, she and Joshua were his parents. Maybe they did something drastically wrong with him, like didn't hug him enough or read him bedtime stories as a toddler or something like that. But they always loved Sirius, and he loved them. There was no lack of that around the household when he was a child.

So how could he be a murderer? Madeline could never reason out why. Yet her son's crimes plagued her for years, even after he was sent to Azkaban and the media seemed to forget about him. Sometimes, she couldn't sleep at nights, wondering about her son. How was he? She had hear so many reports that he went insane, but that couldn't be true. Was he crazy? Did he think about her as often as she thought about him? Did Sirius hate Madeline and Joshua somehow, blaming them for his horrible character? Madeline could believe that. She was his mother, and parents were responsible for their children's actions. Sirius killed thirteen poeple; therefore it made Madeline and Joshua murderers as well.

Now he had escaped from Azkaban just a week before and was a danger to the public. What was he to do as free man? Is he heading out of the country? Leaving England for Europe? To America even? Well, it would be hard for him to leave the country, with those Ministry officers about. 

Three Unspeakables had come to the house two days after his escape was made public. Standing in the kitchen in their dark colored robes, those officers seemed an inpenetreble monolith, with their black shades and stern looks. Madeline had offered them some oatmeal rasin cookies she just baked. One was considerate enough to take one, but not eat it.

Any information about his whereabouts would be helpful, they had said. They suspected Sirius to be heading to Hogwarts. He might be aiming to kill James Potter's son. But maybe there is a chance of him stopping by here, if only to steal supplies for his trip. "Will you help us?" they had asked. "If you see your son here at all, will you report him?"

Joshua was the one who agreed. "Anyway we can help, officers," were his words. Madeline hated him for a split moment for saying that, then wondered if he was lying. His side of the family was very good at lying striaght-faced.

The Ministry had given their number and a fast delivery owl in case they needed to contact them. After they left, Madeline locked herself in the pantry, using her crystal ball to see if Sirius was ever going to return. The results were inconclusive. 

Part of Madeline prayed for Sirius to flee from England while he still could. Another side of her, however, willed for him to be caught. Still, a third hope remained within her, superceeding those ambivalent feelings. She wished that Sirius would come home.

The fourth card stood for the future. It was the seven of hearts, a sign of reunion. 

***

Sirius watched the old Chevy pull out of the driveway and leave before he stepped out of his place in the bushes. He had to retreat from the property anyway, because the owner was staring at him through a window and would probaby shoo him away if he didn't move.

Crossing the street, he came to the garage, which was still open. His father must have forgotten to close it. If Sirius could not visit any other part of his home, at least he had the right to peek inside the garage. 

Entering through the raised door, Sirius instantly choked on the air teeming with dust. A thick layer of it coated everything, and cobwebs draped in the corners of the room. The open door shed sunshine upon things that haven't seen the light of day for years. The floor was of cold concrete and numerous boxes were crowded along the back. But it was all familar to him, and that gave him solace.

Trotting his way past the piled boxes, he sniffed around. Old funiture was stacked about, all broken and worn down into uselessness. An ancient sofa with the stuffing leaking out was by the far wall. Several chairs with cracked legs or backings stood about, with dust creating a cover for the seats. Sirius blinked with amazement. These were the same pieces that were used to furnish the house when he was a child! Look, there was the old parlor room set in the corner, complete with the love seat that he spilled grape juice all over when he was four. And the sofa was a pull-out that he used every time his cousins visited and took over his bedroom. If these pieces were so old and falling apart, why did his parents still keep them here?

Mum did have a tendency to hold onto things, but still.... If a dog could smile, Sirius would be grinning at the thought of his pack rat mother. She could never bear to throw anything away, could she? The house had always been a mess because of her refusal to trash anything. Maybe it was still like that.

Behind the parlor set, something shone in the light. Curious, Sirius peered past the ruined loveseat. My God! He stood in shock, backing away a few steps. It couldn't be! Is it really here?

A large, hulking figure stood by the garage window, covered with a tarp. But the covering was sliding off, revealing the gleam of metal. 

Heedless of capture now, Sirius reverted back into his human form and threw off the tarpaulin. His motorcycle stood before him in perfect condition.

Impossible! Sirius examined the bike. The chrome was still shining bright enough to see his reflection in, and the leather furnishings were practically brand-new. The gears looked as if they had just been oiled, and the tires were in good shape. Maybe the flight spell was still intact as well. No rust, no patches, no dust. Out of everything else in the garage, his motorcycle seemed untouched by the passing of time. How could that be?

And why was it here in the first place? Sirius had lived in his own apartment after he graduated from Hogwarts and brought his bike with him. After the trial, all of his things were sold off by a private auction house. Could his parents have brought his motorcycle back?

Sirius crossed his arms and smiled. He could always depend on them on doing something like this. His parents had hated the fact that he brought the motorcycle in the first place, but there it was, with them taking personal care of it. Sirius could just imagine his father here in the garage every night, double-checking the flight magic and oiling the parts. His mother would be the one to actually test the bike, probably a quick run up and down the street at night when no one was around. The picture of his mother riding his motorcycle in her flowered apron nearly sent him into hysterics.

A sudden voice interuppted his thoughts. "Who's there?"

Sirius whirled around to see Madeline in the enterance, her wand out in front of her.

"Mum-?" he started, taking a step forward.

Madeline gave her son a cold stare. "Don't move," she threatened. 

"But it's me, Si-"

"I know who you are!" Madeline snapped in a tight voice. She had come out to close the garage door, but never thought she would see Sirius standing there. Her heart felt like it was about to jump out of her chest, and her knees shook with surprise and fear. There he was, after thirteen years, there he was! But never, never had she thought it would be like this.

"How could you?" she said in a low voice.

Sirius was speechless. Here she was! After so long.... My God, how she aged! She used to look so pretty when he was younger. But now - with her hair white and pale skin where her rosy cheeks used to be - he almost didn't recognize her. Madeline even lost that sparkle in her eyes that he loved so much. What happened to her?

Life happened. Same with him.

"How could I do what, Mum?" he replied softly. He was her own son, for goodness sake! Would she use her wand on him? He didn't dare move, uncertain about what she would do.

"Come back." Her voice was on the brink of cracking. Were those tears in her eyes? "You shouldn't be here, Sirius."

Why? he wanted to ask. God, after so long, he only wanted to hug his poor mother and say that he loved her. But did she still love him? What if... what if she hated him because she thought he was criminal?

"I-I won't hurt you, Mum," he said slowly. "Just... just..." He couldn't find the right words to say. 

"Go on," she hissed. She couldn't admit this to herself. There he was and all she long to do was hug him and ask why? Why did he do the things he had done? Did he hate his family so much? Was he truly insane? Yet she couldn't motivate herself to question him. Her whole body seemed to be rigid and unyielding to her heart's desires. But what else could she do? Her son was a murderer. Madeline didn't know him anymore.

Sirius took a few more steps back. He bumped into the motorcycle's handlebars.

"Go on," Madeline repeated roughly. "Take it."

"Take what?"

"Take the stupid bike!" Madeline's arm shook a bit. She was trying her best not to cry. "That's the only reason why you came back, isn't it? For the motorcycle??" She waved her arm up and down while saying this and sparks shot out of the wand.

Sirius could only stammer out a reply. "No... no, Mum, I didn't come for the bike...!"

Madeline only shook her head with her eyes shut tight, blocking her tears. "I want you to go," she said in her hardest voice. _This is your chance, Sirius,_ she wanted to say. _Take the bike and leave. Leave the Ministry, leave England... leave my life._ She opened her eyes and blinked rapidly a few times. Madeline couldn't let her son see her cry. He wouldn't understand how she felt. She was afriad he might do something cruel, like laugh. "Go on. Get what you came for."

Sirius turned around and ran his fingers over the handlebars of the motorcycle. This could be of great use for him. Taking the bike, he could get to Hogwarts much faster than anticipated, and go undetected as well. Quick transportation was a must, especially when on the run. After he sought his revenge on Pettigrew, maybe he could use the bike to head for Wales or even up to Scotland. Freedom was flitting at his fingertips.

Yet he didn't take it. Instead, he walked forward toward her.

"Stay away from me!" Madeline shouted. Sirius continued forward until he was just a meter in front of her. Her wand was at the center of his chest. _I could bind him,_ Madeline thought. He was totally defenseless. One word and she could have him restrained until she contacted the Ministry. But she would never do such a thing. Not to her son. 

Madeline didn't say a word, not even as Sirius gently brushed her hand aside. It went limp at his touch and she dropped her wand. The two met eyes. Madeline was still trembling, uncertain of what her son was to do.

Slowly, his eyes travelled down her frame, as if memorizing it. The apron, that was still the same, and so were the green robes. Her hair was cut in that usual cropped style, a little bob on her head. She seemed to have gotten shorter than he remembered.

And her hands - Sirius took hold of Madeline's hands. She gasped and tried to pull away, but let him take them. Sirius opened a palm up and traced the lines with his finger. Methodically, he went over every little detail of her hands. The hands that nurtured him since he was a baby. The hands that perpared every since meal and did every needed chore. The hands that always put on a needed bandage when he scraped his knee, or brushed back that fallen tear.

Madeline taught him palmistry once. She had a strong life line, but an even stronger one for family.

Then, he dropped her hands and gazed at her full in the face again. Madeline drew back. Had her son gone insane? What was he doing, just looking at her like this?

Then, he spoke. "I never came back for the damn motorcycle," he whispered. Sirius leaned forward and kissed his mother where she had always kissed him, right on the forehead just below the hairline. "Take care of Dad and Cal for me."

"Sirius." Madeline was crying openly by now, the tears streaming down her face. She placed her hands on his face and cried his name out again. "Oh, Sirius," she sobbed. "Sirius.... why?"

"Don't ask questions now." He gathered the frail woman in his hands and hugged her tightly. She cried into his chest, embracing him in return. "Just know that everything will be okay..."

Madeline could only nod mutely. For a few minutes, they stood together in their embrace before letting go. Sirius gestured toward the motorcycle. "Thanks for keeping it here."

"What are parents for?" She gave a small smile, which Sirius returned. Then he walked briskly past her and out the garage.

Wait!

Madeline moved to follow, but suddenly stopped. She couldn't go after him, not until this was all over. Carefully, she picked up the tarp and threw it over the motorcycle. He'll come back for that someday. But right now he already taken what he needed.

Leaving the garage, Madeline stood at the end of the driveway, her eyes focussed on where he had gone. Then, she regretfully turned back and entered the house. In the pantry, she blew out the candle and gathered up her cards. They were wrong. Sirius was never a King of Spades.

Outside, a black dog trotted down the street. Anyone passing by would only dismiss it as a mangy stray. But this stray had a home. This stray had love. And that was enough to keep him going until the next time he saw his family once more. He hoped that would be soon.

Yet not even the cards can be sure of that.


End file.
